One of the things I am learning as I begin to tell people about my deconversion is that there aren't many of us who reject religion completely. Sure, my friend E hasn't gone to church in thirty years, doesn't agree with the tenants of the faith she was raised in, and even seems uncomfortable when people talk about religion, but she still believes in God. Or S, who was raised Catholic, has all the above marks as E and is a lesbian to boot, but still calls herself a Catholic. In fact, I am beginning to understand why so many men on OKCupid (when I was still dating) would check the box saying "Christian but not too serious about it." They are Christian in culture only, yet it was ingrained in them enough that even though they essentially live like a non-Christian, they can't turn their backs on it. As if, by still claiming it just a tiny bit, they will get past those pearly gates.

Of the seven people who know about me, only one of them is an atheist or agnostic. In fact, I have been wracking my brain to think of people I know who I can talk to who are atheist. I have looked into free thinker groups in my area, but that feels like going too far. Not because I don't believe those things, but because I think it would upset my husband. Say what you will, but this is the man I love and am choosing to spend my life with. His comfort is important to me. Mine is important to me too and so I walk a fine line between self-care and matrimonial harmony. I could sneak out behind his back, go to a meeting while saying that I am hanging out with a friend, but I don't think lying to your spouse is very loving and it will only create more strife and heartache in the end.

Make no mistake though. I want some atheist friends. I want someone else to discuss with religion with that isn't hidden behind a computer screen. I want someone to bounce ideas and questions off of, whose logical processes don't lead them on a boomerang trip to the Bible. I want someone to make me not feel crazy for not believing in a god. Even now, I keep "fleecing" God, saying, "Well, if you are really there and you still want me to believe in you, you need to do something that is downright miraculous. Heal my friend S from her stomach troubles. Something. Anything." And there is no answer, because there never has been an answer. It would be easy to slip back into faith, or at least some semblance of it, like a well-worn piece of clothing. It's comfortable. It's all I have ever known. But I also know that it would be pretend because those miracles everyone claims to have had almost always have happened to someone else. Besides, knowing what I know about science now, I doubt if I would be swayed by a so-called miracle anyway.